If you see any trouble, just do the right thing and get back here safe. Don’t try to be heroes; the graveyard's full of 'em,” Frost said as Robert slammed his door shut. Robert quickly turned the keys in the ignition.
“We’ll be back soon Sir,” Jan added.
As Robert coasted forward, he noticed Frost had moved back behind the truck. Robert could see him standing with his arms folded in the rear-view mirror. All Robert could think of was the T-2000 from Terminator . ‘What an asshole, ’ he thought. ‘ He knows, and he’s going to nail my ass as soon as I get back—in front of Mom and Dad. Great.’
Robert drove past the armed guards in the street, turned right onto 6 th Ave, and headed toward Route 9. He was relieved once Major Frost and the fire company were out of sight. He looked over to see Jan Goodman holding Robert’s bat.
“What’d you bring this along for?” Jan asked with blissful ignorance.
2
As Robert Landry and Jan Goodman turned onto Route 9, Robert noticed that the snow was starting to fall more heavily. Jan was riding shotgun and he seemed to be fairly unaware of how serious the situation was. Robert wondered if maybe he was the lucky guy. To have had his brother Paul call him this morning and give him the news from a different angle, a decidedly more serious and graphic angle, did not make Robert feel like the lucky one, especially when it came down to having encountered the disease first hand by killing his diseased landlord Carl Riggins.
“Jan, what exactly do you know about what’s going on?” Robert probed.
Jan Goodman, with Robert’s bat on his lap, sat back into the passenger seat appearing to think. He moved his back up and down on the seat while his big tan winter jacket moved opposite his body.
Jan was a portly man and slightly balding. Although you might never notice his receding hairline, because he almost always wore a beat up John-Deer ball cap. He graduated from Colton High School in the same class as Robert’s brother Paul, putting him around 31 years old and rather young to be balding like he was.
Robert watched as Jan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white bag of chewing tobacco. Jan opened the bag and plucked out a large wad of chew, shoving it into the corner of his lip. Robert remembered back in the day when Jan had tried to get Paul hooked on it, but every time Paul had tried it, he came to the breaking point of puking. Paul's faced turned green and everything.
Jan kicked around a bunch of trash that was collecting on the floor of Robert’s passenger side. He leaned down and picked up a used Styrofoam coffee cup.
“Can I use this as a spitter?” Jan asked politely.
“Sure man,” Robert replied.
“Okay well, I woke up this morning when Fran and the girls got up. Just like usual. I got a phone call from one of my bookkeepers saying he wasn't coming over today. We were supposed to be going over the records and cataloging for the farm, you know, the non-farming stuff,” Jan recalled.
“Uh-huh,” Robert said, listening intently.
“Fran and the kids had already turned on the TV by the time I left the bedroom. Every channel, and I mean every channel, was fixed on telling us to head for shelter at the fire company,” Jan said, speaking with amazement.
“I saw that too,” Robert added as the truck hit what must have been a pothole or some type of small creature in the road. The truck bounced up and down causing both of their heads to jerk wildly. The ground was already covered in a respectable amount of snow and Robert quickly realized that he needed to start paying more attention to the road, and then thought, “man, I need a drink already.”
“Uh, maybe drive a little slower there Rob,” Jan suggested.
Robert took notice of his speedometer. Fifty-five miles an hour probably was way too fast in this weather. He slowed down to a brisk 45 mph.
“So yeah, anyway. We got in the van and headed over to the fire company. Who
“We’ll be back soon Sir,” Jan added.
As Robert coasted forward, he noticed Frost had moved back behind the truck. Robert could see him standing with his arms folded in the rear-view mirror. All Robert could think of was the T-2000 from Terminator . ‘What an asshole, ’ he thought. ‘ He knows, and he’s going to nail my ass as soon as I get back—in front of Mom and Dad. Great.’
Robert drove past the armed guards in the street, turned right onto 6 th Ave, and headed toward Route 9. He was relieved once Major Frost and the fire company were out of sight. He looked over to see Jan Goodman holding Robert’s bat.
“What’d you bring this along for?” Jan asked with blissful ignorance.
2
As Robert Landry and Jan Goodman turned onto Route 9, Robert noticed that the snow was starting to fall more heavily. Jan was riding shotgun and he seemed to be fairly unaware of how serious the situation was. Robert wondered if maybe he was the lucky guy. To have had his brother Paul call him this morning and give him the news from a different angle, a decidedly more serious and graphic angle, did not make Robert feel like the lucky one, especially when it came down to having encountered the disease first hand by killing his diseased landlord Carl Riggins.
“Jan, what exactly do you know about what’s going on?” Robert probed.
Jan Goodman, with Robert’s bat on his lap, sat back into the passenger seat appearing to think. He moved his back up and down on the seat while his big tan winter jacket moved opposite his body.
Jan was a portly man and slightly balding. Although you might never notice his receding hairline, because he almost always wore a beat up John-Deer ball cap. He graduated from Colton High School in the same class as Robert’s brother Paul, putting him around 31 years old and rather young to be balding like he was.
Robert watched as Jan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white bag of chewing tobacco. Jan opened the bag and plucked out a large wad of chew, shoving it into the corner of his lip. Robert remembered back in the day when Jan had tried to get Paul hooked on it, but every time Paul had tried it, he came to the breaking point of puking. Paul's faced turned green and everything.
Jan kicked around a bunch of trash that was collecting on the floor of Robert’s passenger side. He leaned down and picked up a used Styrofoam coffee cup.
“Can I use this as a spitter?” Jan asked politely.
“Sure man,” Robert replied.
“Okay well, I woke up this morning when Fran and the girls got up. Just like usual. I got a phone call from one of my bookkeepers saying he wasn't coming over today. We were supposed to be going over the records and cataloging for the farm, you know, the non-farming stuff,” Jan recalled.
“Uh-huh,” Robert said, listening intently.
“Fran and the kids had already turned on the TV by the time I left the bedroom. Every channel, and I mean every channel, was fixed on telling us to head for shelter at the fire company,” Jan said, speaking with amazement.
“I saw that too,” Robert added as the truck hit what must have been a pothole or some type of small creature in the road. The truck bounced up and down causing both of their heads to jerk wildly. The ground was already covered in a respectable amount of snow and Robert quickly realized that he needed to start paying more attention to the road, and then thought, “man, I need a drink already.”
“Uh, maybe drive a little slower there Rob,” Jan suggested.
Robert took notice of his speedometer. Fifty-five miles an hour probably was way too fast in this weather. He slowed down to a brisk 45 mph.
“So yeah, anyway. We got in the van and headed over to the fire company. Who
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